


a choice

by cielacca



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, several other things are implied too, some other ships are briefly mentioned too, the timeline is a little wonky here forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23658856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cielacca/pseuds/cielacca
Summary: Bill didn't know what he wanted, and he figured that was as much a problem as anything else.
Relationships: Kieran Duffy/Bill Williamson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	a choice

Bill didn't know what he wanted, and he figured that was as much a problem as anything else. Javier would gently poke fun at him for it, in quiet late night moments by the campfire. "Just go out and get what you need," he would say, a smile dancing across his face, as if it was as easy for Bill as it always was for handsome, friendly Javier. 

Handsome, friendly Javier, who could walk into any bar or saloon and find a woman enamored enough with him with no real trouble, had no idea what it was really like for Bill, who preferred to stay in the countryside with the company of the men he already knew. When Bill just pouted deeper at the suggestion, Javier just laughed and clapped him on the back. "I know, I know, amigo. I'm sorry," though the smile never left him. 

What Bill needed was not so clear to him. He knew there were members of the gang who wouldn't mind his asking -- Morgan and Marston had been known to take each other in hand, especially when Marston was a lanky, rowdy teenager and Morgan fresh off some woman from town -- but he wasn't sure if he wanted something more. 

He had caught sight of the pictures Dutch kept next to his bed of him and Hosea, young and wide eyed, with arms casually slung around each other, smiling brightly. Dutch kept those next to his photo of Annabelle, next to the photo of a young Marston and Morgan. Even he knew that Dutch and Hosea always came back to each other. 

Looking at those photos made some stir in him, but he could hardly identify what. Did he want something quick? Did he want a warm body? Did he want someone to come back to, who would always come back to him?

He could never quite figure it out.

\-----

The O’Driscoll boy had been both a blessing and a curse. When he had first arrived, Bill had taken a shine to him immediately. Somewhere between threatening to chop his balls off and grabbing at the hem of his pants, Javier had pulled him off the wheezing Kieran and thrown Bill to the ground. "Get off him, Williamson, Jesus," he had said. Then, lower, "Think about what you're doing, Christ." 

So Bill had thought. He had thought and thought and sulked and thought. Around the third day of stomping around camp sullenly and glaring at Kieran where he was tied to the tree, Javier put him out of his misery. “Why are you so bothered, Bill? What about that boy is getting under your skin?” 

Kieran had long, stringy hair and a thin frame and a small voice, and light eyes that watched Bill like a hawk. Bill liked to watch him breathe, in and out, rapid and unsettled. “I think you know,” Javier had said, grinning. 

Bill hated when Javier was right. 

\-----

"What is your problem?" Kieran's hands were balled up at his sides, and he was shaking with anger. Bill was standing at his guard post and hadn't even bothered to turn around when he heard Kieran walk up.

He's facing him now, though, dumbstruck by the boy's sudden outburst. "What?" Bill snapped.

"I said," Kieran snapped back, "what is your problem? With me?"

"Do we really gotta spell this out for you again, boy? You're an --"

Before Bill can finish, Kieran slams his hands against Bill's chest. It pushes him back a step, more from the shock than any real force Kieran put behind it. Kieran's teeth are gritted. "No," he snarls, "not with the O'Driscoll boys. What's your problem _with me?_ "

He stares into Bill's eyes. He's breathing hard.

"I'm tryin' my best. I'm doin' my part." Kieran drops his head, sounds almost defeated. He takes a deep breath, and without looking up, adds, "Not like you care."

He stalks off into the night.

Bill watches him go. 

\-----

Kieran comes to him again. This time, he is quiet. He stands facing the night, shoulder to shoulder with Bill. They have an unsteady peace, have had it for a few days.

"Why'd you stop?" Kieran says. He still doesn't look at Bill.

Bill feels irritated at the question. Javier had already put enough dangerous thoughts in his head. He didn't need Kieran making it worse.

"I'd be happy to start again. Don't get too comfortable."

Kieran sighs, scrubs his hands across his face.

"Sure." Kieran says.

Bill doesn't ask him to leave.

So Kieran stays. 

\-----

In the end, Bill was confident Kieran agreed to come to his bed for protection. The rest of the gang had warmed up to him over time, to a point. But the jokes never stopped and Kieran never let his guard down. He kept himself busy and tucked away. In the evenings, when they ate dinner, Kieran would sometimes join them. 

Still, Bill wasn't stupid enough to think that the way Kieran sat next to him by the campfire, thighs just touching, meant anything other than safety for the kid.

\-----

Then there were the nights Kieran shared Bill's bed, the nights Bill could coax him away from the rock he usually slept propped up next to, nights like tonight. 

Bill ran hot, and slept with his chest bare; he could feel the muscles in Kieran's pale back shifting against him. He had already had Kieran once that night, the sensation of his hot, wet breath against his neck still burned into his skin. 

Kieran was dozing, but not deeply. Every time Bill shifted, he felt him wake up, resettle, and doze off again. This time, however, he didn't. When he woke up in the early morning light, Kieran turned around gently so they were facing each other. Bill scowled. He was about to ask if he had been bothering him, if he'd rather leave, start a fight rather than admit that he felt guilty, when Kieran softly, fearfully pressed their lips together. 

Bill felt his scowl loosen, even as Kieran slid his hands up Bill's chest, fingertips brushing through the hair there. It wasn't the first time -- Kieran was soft, and had turned Bill soft, and in the dead of night Bill would let Kieran kiss him if he was in the mood -- but still, it wasn't something Bill was used to. 

He caught himself wondering if Dutch had kissed Hosea like this, soft and raw and wanting, the night before they had their photo taken.

Kieran parted his lips, offered Bill his tongue, and with a low growl Bill claimed his mouth, tasting the sleep and the bourbon on his breath, caught the salt from Bill's own cock there, too. Kieran sighed contentedly, hands moving to cup Bill's face. 

It all felt -- well, it felt like something else. Not like convenience, not like just getting off, not like sharing a bed just because it was cold and there weren't enough beds. This was something new.

Kieran pulled away with something like a sigh, laying his head back down on Bill's cot, keeping one hand on Bill's chest. Bill kept his face in a careful, neutral expression as he pulled away. Kieran searched his eyes, pale blue lost in deep brown.

"Why am I here, sir?" Kieran's voice was soft, wavering. Bill grunted, pulling back to settle on his arm.

"Don't call me sir, boy."

Kieran wiggled uncomfortably, but dragged his nails through the hair on Bill's chest all the same. "You're right. I'm sorry," he said, tilting his head just the slightest, "Bill."

Bill harrumphed, but his cock jumped at the soft exhale of his name on Kieran's breath. "S'more like it," he said as he dipped his head to nose at Kieran's neck. Kieran sucked in a breath, and when he shifted again Bill could feel the half-hard press of his cock.

"Am I... I mean, did you...." When Bill picked his head up to look at the boy below him, he could tell he was searching for the right words. The two of them always were around each other. Kieran usually out of the fear Bill had put into him, and Bill, well -- that was just how Bill was. Kieran sighed again. "Am I here because I'm convenient or... or, because..." Kieran let the sentence trail off.

"Convenient?"

"What I mean is -- am I the only one that would... that would fuck you, or -- ah," Kieran shifted again, "or did you want me anyway?"

The question is so open that it stops Bill short. "Why you thinkin' like that?" Bill says, instead of answering.

Kieran looked down and away from Bill, like Bill wasn't going to like the next thing he was going to say. "Well, um... Javier asked me. He asked me if -- if this was just something to let off some steam or, uh..."

Bill growled again. Javier knew exactly what he was doing, even if Bill didn't know exactly what Javier was doing. He just knew Javier well enough to know that he wouldn't go askin' around like that without a reason.

Bill watched as Kieran continued to look around the sparse tent, anywhere but at Bill. 

"You ain't -- I'd choose you." Bill said, finally.

Kieran's eyes snap to his. "You -- what?"

"I'd choose you. Even if we weren't -- if other people would have me." Bill bores his eyes into Kieran. He doesn't have the sense for shame, he knows. All he has is brute force and a big voice, and even here, he doesn't know anything else. "You was a choice, boy."

Kieran's eyes are wide as saucers, and a smile plays at his lips. "Yeah," he breathes out, finally. "Yeah, yeah. I, um --"

Bill cuts Kieran off, surging forward suddenly to kiss him again. Kieran laughs against his lips and lets him. They’re a tangle now, legs and arms and fingers, pressing together everywhere they can. When Bill pushes his fingers against Kieran’s hole, he’s still slick from earlier, the slide of the grease and Bill’s tacky, half-dried come. It drives Bill wild as Kieran whimpers, sensitive even after a few hours. Bill throws his hand out to grab the tin and re-slicks his fingers, sliding two inside Kieran, who makes a sharp noise of pleasure. Bill presses the pads of his fingers against the spot inside Kieran that makes him fall apart, and Kieran whines and shifts himself so their cocks are sliding against each other. 

“Want you,” Bill slurs against Kieran’s lips, and Kieran nods frantically, letting yes, yes, yes fall from his mouth over and over again, but Bill doesn’t just mean right now. His hips shake and stutter. He wants Kieran, wants to be inside him, wants to watch him come on his cock. Kieran’s nails drag down his back. Bill wants to trust Kieran, to ride with him. The wet slide of their cocks leaves a mess on Bill’s belly. He wants Kieran to want him. To choose him, to come back to him. 

He doesn’t know what it all means. All he knows is he had everything so wrong. 

\-----

The question hangs thick in the air as the camp begins to stir around them.

"You gave me a chance." Kieran’s voice is soft in the dewy air, his breath mingling between the two of them. "You didn't give an O'Driscoll boy a chance. You didn't give a Van der Linde a chance." Kieran meets his eyes.

Bill has no clue how he managed to not fuck this up.

Kieran presses a kiss to Bill's chapped lips.

"Me," he says again, barely more than a whisper.

"You," Bill agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> writing this made me soft for bill williamson so I guess I have to live with that now
> 
> normally I like to be a little more detail conscious but I kinda just let this fic take me where it wanted to take me! I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
